


Nightmares

by MimiWritesHerFandoms



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Nightmares, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-26
Updated: 2017-10-26
Packaged: 2019-01-23 07:36:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12502200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MimiWritesHerFandoms/pseuds/MimiWritesHerFandoms
Summary: The reader has frequent nightmares, maybe she tried saving someone close to her, but she failed, and now she suffers from PTSD. One night, Bucky hears, and tries to wake her up, but can't. He climbs into bed with her, and almost instantly, her thrashing and cries stop. She sleeps peacefully the rest of the night. They're just friends... until now?





	Nightmares

_ You were close, so close you could almost feel him. You twisted the knob and used your foot to ease the door open, peering around the jamb. Empty. As was the next room and the next. _

_ You stopped and leaned against the wall. He had to be here, he had to. You took a deep breath and turned the corner, moving down the long hall leading away from the main warehouse floor, staying in the shadows, occasionally glancing over your shoulder at the wide expanse of empty concrete wasteland behind you. _

_ Halfway down the hall, you heard the first gunshot, so loud it made you jump. You blinked several times, frozen, unable to move, clenching your gun so tightly your hand ached. The second gunshot had you moving, feet barely touching the floor as you sped down the hall, fear pushing you to move, the door flying open, gun raised. _

_ You were too late. _

* * *

Bucky could hear her, hear her soft cries, the quiet moans. He’d heard her every night since he’d come to the compound, heard her as he’d roamed the halls night after night, unable to sleep, haunted by the fear of his own nightmares.

But tonight was by far the worst, she was sobbing, a heartbreaking sound that made him want to protect her. He moved silently down the hall, stopping in front of her door, one hand on the knob, his forehead resting against the wood. He wondered if he should go in, try to help in some way. He was wavering, unsure what to do, when she let out a gasping cry.

He pushed open the door, purposefully striding across the room, stopping at the end of the bed. Her face was illuminated by the dim lamp still burning on the far side of the room. He could see that she was asleep, at least he thought she was, though she was tossing and turning, thrashing really, the blankets twisted around her legs, her fists clenching and unclenching in the sheets, quiet, oddly frightening moans falling from her lips.

“Y/N?” Bucky whispered, easing around the side of the bed to stand beside her. “Y/N?” 

The only answer was another heartbreaking moan. He reached out and put his hand on her bare leg, flinching when she jerked away. She rolled away from him, the tears on her face shining in the light that glanced across her face.

Without thinking about what he was doing, Bucky pulled back the twisted blankets, and slid into the bed beside her. He slid his right arm beneath her, pulling her against his chest, and rested his metal hand on her hip, careful not to touch her bare skin. He expected her to fight him, wake up and push him away, but instead, the thrashing stopped and she quieted, a long, drawn out breath leaving her. She seemed to melt into him, her hand resting on his chest, her cheek on his shoulder. 

Bucky closed his eyes, sleep taking him for the first time in weeks.

* * *

The sun streaming through the half closed curtain drew you from sleep. You couldn’t believe how well you’d slept. It had been ages since you’d gotten a good night’s sleep. You stretched, your eyes flying open when you bumped into a warm body curled around yours.

“Bucky?” you murmured. You rubbed your eyes like a child just waking from a long nap. “What are you doing here?”

“Nightmares,” he said, pushing himself up, leaning against the headboard. “You were having nightmares. I heard you, last night when I walked by. I’ve heard you every night.”

Your breath caught in your throat, making it hard to swallow. You didn’t think anyone knew about the nightmares, about the PTSD diagnosis you’d kept to yourself. Obviously, you were wrong. You sat up, moving away from Bucky, gathering the blankets around yourself and picking at a loose thread.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered.

“Sorry?” Bucky looked confused. “You don’t have anything to be sorry about. You can’t control your nightmares.” He slipped out of the bed. “I hope I helped.” He vanished out the door.

You smiled to yourself, grateful for a friend like Bucky. You’d been having nightmares for months, ever since losing your closest friend and partner during a failed rescue attempt. You’d been injured, spent weeks in the hospital, not even able to attend his funeral, overwhelmed by guilt, anger, and regret, and suffering from crippling PTSD. You were recovering, slowly, but you were still plagued by nightmares, almost every night, making sleep impossible.

Who would have thought that the one person to help you would be Bucky, a man a million times more damaged than you? The two of you were friends, growing close over the last few months while you’d been basically confined to the compound. You made him laugh, and he made you feel normal, ignoring the scars covering the left side of your body, looking past the damage to truly see the person you were. You’d spent several nights up late talking, or just watching movies or some mindless television show. You answered his questions about, well, everything, and he worked with you through your physical therapy, the only one patient enough to deal with you. 

And last night, Bucky had climbed into your bed and you had slept better than you had in months. You felt rested, normal.

This went on for couple of weeks; you’d wake up, choking back a scream, only to find the super soldier beside you, his arms around you, pulling you against his chest. You would sink into him, clutching whatever shirt he was wearing in your hands, tears rolling down your face soaking the front of it. He wouldn’t say a word, he would just hold you until the crying stopped, then he would lie down beside you, holding you close as you drifted back to sleep.

Early one morning, the smell of coffee and bacon woke you. You were alone, Bucky, as usual, gone as soon as the sun had come up. You dragged yourself out of bed, pulled on an oversized sweatshirt and some sweatpants, and made your way to the kitchen. Steve pushed a cup of coffee in front of you after you dropped into a chair at the breakfast bar.

“You okay?” he asked.

“Mm-hm,” you nodded. “Where’s Bucky?”

“I haven’t seen him, yet,” Steve shrugged. He glanced toward the door, back down at you, then he cleared his throat. “Can I ask you a personal question?”

“I guess,” you murmured, eyeing him warily.

“What’s going on with you and Buck?” he asked. “I’ve seen him coming out of your room a few times over the last few weeks, and I was wondering -”

You scrubbed a hand down your face. “It’s not what you think, Steve,” you replied. “Bucky’s my friend and he’s...he’s a really good guy.”

“Preaching to the choir, Y/N,” he chuckled. “Bucky is a great friend and one of the best men I know.”

“Is that a warning, Steve? One of those “hurt my friend, I hurt you” kind of things?”

“No,” he shook his head. “It’s me saying I think you two might be good for each other.” He smiled, patted your hand, picked up his coffee and wandered out of the kitchen, squeezing your shoulder as he passed you.

You kept hoping that as the weeks passed, the frequency and intensity of the nightmares would lessen, but that wasn’t the case. The only thing that seemed to help was Bucky. He was the only one that seemed capable of calming you down. He would crawl into bed with you, holding you until your breathing returned to normal, your heart stopped pounding, and your tears dried up. Most nights he would stay, your bodies intertwined, both of you sleeping until morning. As time passed, you began to wish that the two of you were spending your nights together under different circumstances, though you had no intention of letting Bucky know about your growing feelings for him. Especially now, when you knew the only reason he was spending his nights with you was because of the nightmares.

_ You were close, so close you could almost feel him. You twisted the knob and used your foot to ease the door open, peering around the jamb. Empty. As was the next room and the next. _

_ You stopped and leaned against the wall. He had to be here, he had to. You took a deep breath and turned the corner, moving down the long hall leading away from the main warehouse floor, staying in the shadows, occasionally glancing over your shoulder at the wide expanse of empty concrete wasteland behind you. _

_ Halfway down the hall, you heard the first gunshot, so loud it made you jump. You blinked several times, frozen, unable to move, clenching your gun so tightly your hand ached. The second gunshot had you moving, feet barely touching the floor as you sped down the hall, fear pushing you to move, the door flying open, gun raised. _

_ The explosion rocked the building, throwing you backwards into the wall, the ceiling falling down around you, burying you in rubble, trapping you. _

_ “Bucky?” you called quietly. “Bucky?” _

_ There was no answer from the super soldier. You pushed against the debris covering you, calling Bucky’s name over and over, praying that he’d hear you. You tried to breathe, to keep yourself calm, but your lungs were filled with dirt and dust, making it impossible to pull in a deep breath. You needed to move, wanted to move, every fiber of your being was screaming at you to escape. Something snapped inside of you and you lost it, your arms and legs flailing, clawing at the debris covering you, while incoherent noises tore out of your throat. You could feel sweat running in rivulets down your body and tears pouring from your eyes. You were trapped and you were never getting out. The incoherent babbling turned to screams as you begged and prayed for release from the prison you were trapped beneath. _

_ “Y/N,” you heard through the haze of your cries, but the voice was far away, not close enough to help. You fought harder to free yourself. _

_ “Y/N!” a rough voice growled and then soft lips were pressed against yours and strong arms were wrapped around you, crushing you to a broad, muscular chest. _

Your eyes flew open, sure you were still dreaming, but Bucky was right there, holding you, kissing you, protecting you, and without thinking, you kissed him back. Your hands fisted in his t-shirt, pulling him closer as you climbed into his lap, your knees on either side of his hips. He groaned as your hips pressed against his, his metal hand sliding up your back into your hair, cupping the back of your head, holding you to him. He nipped at your lower lip, pushing your mouth open with his tongue, sliding it over your teeth, kissing you like you’d never been kissed before.

“You were screaming,” he growled, his lips moving to your throat, licking and nibbling as he spoke. “You wouldn’t wake up. I didn’t know what else to do.”

“No,” you murmured. “This is...this is good.” You slipped your hands beneath his t-shirt, shoving it up, desperate to touch his skin, to run your hands over his hard muscles. You pushed him away and yanked the shirt over his head, sitting back on your haunches, your hands running over him, over every scar, every mark. You locked eyes with him as your fingers drifted up his arm, his metal arm, watching him watch you. He flinched when you touched his shoulder, caressing the scar tissue gathered around the edge of the metal prosthetic. You leaned over him, your hand splayed over his shoulder, dipping your head to catch his lips with yours, kissing him.

You squirmed in his lap, drawing a low moan from Bucky, his cock twitching between your bodies. He snarled like an animal, moving lightning quick, pushing you to your back, his hands tugging at your clothes, surprisingly gentle, removing them until you were lying beneath him, completely naked. He settled himself between your legs, his still clad erection pressing into you.

“Bucky,” you gasped, grabbing his ass and pulling him tight against you, grinding into him.

His lips were everywhere, biting, sucking, licking, driving you wild with need. He plucked and twisted your nipple, between his thumb and forefinger, the metal surprisingly warm. His other hand moved up your leg to your inner thigh, pushing your legs open. You gasped as he eased two fingers into you, his thumb brushing across your clit. He pumped them in and out of you as you ground against his hand, moaning obscenely.

“Fuck, doll, you’re so wet,” Bucky whispered, his voice thick and filled with lust.

You nodded, your hair flying around your face as you writhed under his touch, aching for him. “Bucky, please,” you whimpered, pushing at the fabric still covering him.

He sat up and hurriedly shoved off his boxers, before sitting down and pulling you into his lap. You grasped his shoulders as you lowered yourself onto him in one fluid movement, wincing slightly at the feeling of fullness his substantial size caused. Bucky tugged lightly on your hair, forcing your head back, his lips ghosting over your skin until he reached your breast, his mouth closing around your nipple, sucking it greedily. He held your hips, his hand a heavy weight, and began thrusting into you, his hips snapping up to meet yours as you rocked back and forth, holding his arms for support as you rode him.

Bucky kissed you, biting at your lower lip again. You shoved your tongue into his open mouth, your nails digging into him, leaving long scratch marks on his back. His hands moved over your body, touching every inch of you, his metal hand settling on your breast, caressing it, while the other slid between your bodies, rubbing madly at your clit.

Heat spread through your body, starting in the pit of your stomach and moving through all of your limbs, unbelievable, electric, mind-numbing heat that consumed everything in its path until you were coming, grinding against Bucky, holding his head against your body, begging him not to stop, riding him harder and harder until you were crying out his name.

Through the haze of the soul consuming orgasm encompassing you, you heard Bucky mutter “oh fuck,” his hips stuttering, and his thrust becoming deeper and harder. As you began to wind down from the single best orgasm you had ever had, he grunted, coming with one last hard thrust.

You sprawled across him, your forehead resting on his chest as you struggled to catch your breath, his head falling back against the headboard, his hands resting on your back, the feel of the metal against your skin making you shiver.

“I didn’t mean for that to happen,” Bucky whispered after a few minutes.

You raised your head to look at him. “Neither did I,” you smiled. “But I don’t mind at all.”

“You don’t?”

You kissed him, your fingers twisting in his long hair to pull him closer. “Definitely not,” you whispered.

“Do you want me to stay?” he asked quietly when the kiss ended.

“Yes, please,” you murmured, pressing a kiss to the hollow of his throat. “I need you.”

Bucky nodded, rolling you to your side and curling around you, kissing you gently until you fell asleep.

 


End file.
